


All I Need

by 7Threes



Series: Jigsaw Falling Into Place [7]
Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi-Centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Persona 5 Protagonist is from Inaba, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RSD | Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Slow Burn, Songfic, Spoilers, Time-Loop AU, Trippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7Threes/pseuds/7Threes
Summary: Part 7 of many to a series attributed under the name “Jigsaw Falling Into Place”, not to be confused with the work that will occur later on. Check the collection description for more details on the series as a whole.Akira is from Inaba AU, Time-Loop AU, Major Canon Divergence. Updates to the series biweekly.Akechi accepts a certain invitation, but starts having surreal experiences on his way.





	All I Need

**Author's Note:**

> Oddly enough, I wasn't high when I wrote this. I wish I was though.
> 
> LONG CHAPTER! ALSO THIS IS WHERE THINGS GET REALLY TRIPPY!

It was the dead of night when he checked out of work, and he nocturnally skulked the streets submerged under water. It was the primordial soup, the ocean of humanity, sea of ghosts - the faces fading currents as they vaguely made way into his subliminal mind, but their forms were transient like his recurring nightmare moments after wake.

 

At times like this, he would forget the difference between the cognitive world and reality. He figured it was because everything was already cognition, and there was no real evidence that what he experienced was even real. He had lost count of how many times he woke up from troubled dreams wishing that the reality he woke to was the nightmare, and that his dream was reality.

 

His mind was lucid, he realized the depth of those that surrounded him was equivalent to his own - Sonder. He’d sometimes become invisible, his skin chameleon-like as the lack of plastic wrapping terminates his mask beyond recognition - times when he no longer held the mask of Robin Hood, but of Loki. It happened more often with every day the election drew near, he’d become a vessel of useless flesh to the internal poison that ate away at his being. It was hard to feel so present, as his mind was rotting in dementia impulses, reality became less apparent than dream.

 

He remembered the day he was diagnosed - it was shortly after he had signed on as a detective. He wanted to be sure his mind was adequate for the job, and strangely it yielded his disease.

 

Among his phobias born of rejection, and the anxiety and depression that weighed on his brain, like a fungus they were to his frontotemporal lobe - inflicted dementia upon his moral globe. The sickness was akin to Loki, a cancer upon himself, but an attack on his very identity. Each moment he lost bits and pieces of himself, so he resolved that he would place his revenant tendencies into a container in his heart that burned like acid, and boiled his blood in rare extremities. After he looked into the words Loki spoke, he reasoned that they came from the perfect person - one who sung of tragic twists and betrayal to oneself, the loss of identity ever hung above his head like the afflicted Cerpin and Vismund, plagued by addiction.

 

He knew his addiction, his obsession, his fixation; Masayoshi Shido, _Valerian Father,_ the plague upon his hissing children, those who writhe as snakes born of the ash of maternal fires, set by the pillaging wills of that dreadful man.

 

_It’s all I need_ , he thought, _everything I’ve ever wanted was to take down that man._

 

In his head bitterly laughed Robin Hood, whom he hadn’t heard in ages. _“An anesthetic penance beneath the hail of contraband - And a silencing that still walks the streets - the federales have performed their custodial customs quite well. - Autonomous machete for hands, warden and judge hide behind masks, - I’m just tired of counting bodies, is this mausoleum tardy? - Contusion is hungry, - Museums mark their bodies down.”_

 

“Ah, yes. I’m as tired as you.” Akechi muttered into the collar of his jacket, somber as he watched the world go by.

 

**_I feel a sorrow, where they just keep coming up with excuses to cover my sins up. I’m tired of killing, tired of counting the bodies. Tired of being a monster._ **

  
  


“But we can’t stop here. I’m already going to…” he swallowed down the dryness in his throat as he watched the placid sky stare down back at him with many judging eyes, “I’m going to die anyway.”

 

A gust blew past, and he braced his arm to cover his eyes from the dust and wind that threatened them. When he finally drew back his arm, he found the world a tint of dreamy purple-red, the refraction melt of wavelength extremities exhaled the likeness of the cognitive world. Overhung did loom the spines of leviathans born from exploration paranoia, fear of the unknown, in the place of cubicle spires did they usurp, the bones of time coiling inward towards the erected pillars of the strangely breathing deceased - from their jagged formations draped a curtain of flesh melded with the fabrics of time in an eerie silence while the heavens bled their tears unto the city, translucent red viscera of gods emanating tendrils of reddish vapor that gleaned like it was full of minerals. The world fell silent around Akechi, who beholded it while it wrapped him in oppressive twilight.

 

He stepped towards the mass of abandoned capillaries, the disgusting pile of limbs it excreted as tendrils that wrapped around the skeletons born of human imagination and decayed with their disregard. From it emerged the only coherently human thing among the plagued dreams of the damned and dreary - a projection of the wither of humans weary. At least, that was Akechi’s preemptive theory.

 

_“Tremulant exhales, do you hear me? Born unto man, an aid to weary. Tremulant rhymes, some find eerie. You find yourself alone, it’s not to be cheery. Wipe that look from your face, you should be fearing.”_

 

Akechi merely watched the mass of writing capillary tentacles wrap around an overgrown human skull, oddly unsurprising. The stature resembled of that supernatural, Akechi found himself disbelieving the actuality, the world not parallel but the future tense to his reality.

 

_“Tremulant seeks where others can’t see, and lurks in places that cannot be. The effigy is me, I breathe what not that you see, but you perceive. Born of the mind of thee, I am all - all is me, Tremulant known for the sea, the very shake of your feed. Like tendrils your eyes unto me, I am the very salt of the body. Perception my dominion reigns in bleed, reception I am the very seed. Chaos, madness, stimulant lead, every shake recognized is my deed. The collective I become beyond like a weed, into your gathering I shall feed.”_

 

The flexible pile tightened itself, capillaries formed around like muscles without bones into anthropomorphic shape - this relation was born. Akechi awed and gagged in disgust, and could not stave off his distrust.

 

_“I shall explain, if I must. Not only am I reception, but I lust. Smelling in the air of must, seeing and feeling in storms of dust - sensation is my damnation, the fascination a contagion that plagues my crust. I am recognition, the very rendition. I teach sickness upon conditions, I am the thirst of all addictions, the awareness of conditions, the sense of vibrations - I hoard all these visions in the sink of my tongue, the exhale of my lung - the sensations are my domination. I breathe unto you the visions of desire, projections of your heart that you burned with fire. I shall unearth it as an apparatus, and expose the self that you devote a liar.”_

  
  
  
  
  


In that, the world turned from dreams to vivid - the bright light initially bleary to Akechi as he guarded his face once more, and found himself on rolling green hills in spring. The air was clean, the night was gone, and so was his memory - aside from hints at identity.

 

His head felt truly clear for once, but he couldn’t realize that - he took it for granted because he couldn’t remember. All he recognized was the face of the younger boy staring into the clouds beside a tree in the otherwise empty plain, just below the hill where he stood. The boy looked sad, and something in Akechi urged him to sit beside the boy wearing his own face.

 

_“Will he ever go away, Oniichan? Or will he always steal from me?”_

 

Akechi didn’t know what he was talking about, “What do you mean, Ototuo? Is someone bullying you?”

 

_“Yes. And he’s always beside me, wherever I go.”_

 

Akechi looked around, but when he found no-one he questioned the boy, “Where is he, now?”

 

The little boy pointed at Akechi’s chest, and for a brief moment he remembered something. However, it vanished from his mind a second later, and he found himself upset that he couldn’t recall, _“It’s in here, don’t you remember? It eats me away.”_

 

Akechi frowned at the revelation before the child continued to talk, _“It makes me forget myself sometimes. Not like forgetting my name, but just… act wrong. I’m starting to lose myself, how I once was. I don’t want that to happen, I don’t want to hurt people. I just… I want to see Mom again.”_

 

Bile rose in Akechi’s throat as he slowly began to recall the things that he has done, but he kept himself composed. “What’s the name of it?” he asked, as he wanted to know the truth behind the subtleties.

 

_“You don’t have to look too far for it, it’s just over the anthills - eastward.”_ the boy pointed _, “It’s hard to name it, because it’s me, too. Like two sides of the same coin. Except it eats me away, and I doubt there will be anything left very soon.”_

 

_Over there…_

 

Akechi looked to the east, where a great anthill sat itself.

 

_“Be careful.”_ the boy warned _, “Beyond the anthills of the dawning of this plague, you will lose your way.”_

 

Akechi looked back to the boy whose face seemed to be replaced with a white nothingness with horns that sprouted from it, but after a second it vanished. It left Akechi shaken, a recollection ebbed at his mind but did not breach the walls of his happy ignorance.

  
  


He stubbornly made his way to the anthill, he noted their strange appearances of white carapace and mandibles as horns - many starved due to lack of functionality, not necessarily famine. It was a design doomed to fail, it was a wonder it thrived in the first place.

 

Over the peak he peered, gazing at the barren land full of drought and wind that erases the past, rendering it dust. The land was partially scorched, and the seas that it had were full of acid - the ants were digging out canals from the bodies of water towards the west. Beneath him, a voice came from lack - a blot in the light that almost touched everything.

 

_“Spector, I, speak in the east, do. Plague you, heart full of blood - now acid. It breaks the walls of you, the ambition, the vindictive nature of you breathes a poison to yourself as does your own mind decayed by fungus of stress. With the regression of your mind, I command the regression of your heart.”_

 

Akechi didn’t have to talk much to this one, for he had quickly realized that it was a rendition of his ambition. His struggle, an acid that regresses than a nourishment that progresses, excessive yearning - the overdose apparent in the state of his heart.

 

He looked down, his very own shadow spoke to him. Frowning, he sought to rid himself of the darkness - but he couldn’t escape it. So he jumped into the anthill, his shadow disappeared but the light over him remained until his downward fall took him to darkness with a small single eye that gazed from the heavens. He resigned to his descent, but found himself with feet on the ground as feeling returned to his real body - the light of the anthill becoming lost in the many stars in the abyss of night’s deep.

  
  


He sighed and recomposed himself, but every step wobbled at his feet. As he remembered - thoughts tricked in - Loki hummed in amusement at the disoriented nature of Akechi.

 

_“Beyond the anthills of the dawning of this plague, - I’ve got a second chance to inhabit the living.”_

 

“I know I’m back.” Akechi grunted in response, but he lied. He didn’t know if he dreamt that sky or if it was the reality he was used to drowning in.

 

_“Knife me in, hobbling, talking in its sleep again.”_

 

Loki drawled as he observed Akechi stumbling over himself, uncoordinated and unable to walk. His gut felt warmed with poison, the soreness caused sweat to bead at his head, ran down his temples like the bloody tears did in Tremulant’s domain, or wherever that was - the onset to his heart, conduit to his bottle.

 

_“All my life I’ve been sowing the wounds, but the seeds sprout a lachrymal cloud. - I found the remnants of a crescent fang, it cleaned my wing down to the bone. - No, no, no, no, no…”_

 

“ _Don’t!”_ Akechi hissed before he lost his balance and hit a stone wall that jutted from the ground as a divider, “Don’t- _lecture_ me. You’re the last thing that should worry-“

 

_“They used to have pulses in them, but impulse has made them strong.”_

 

The detrimental Persona explained, which made sense to Akechi somewhat. “Well then, I’ll die in spite of you, too.”

 

Loki remained silent, and the seconds drew long as Akechi attempted to traverse the night on faulty legs, walls as his crutch where he pushed himself over pages of concrete that cracked like malformed smiles jeering at him - he could hear their voices cackle without air or wind for them to be carried. The atmosphere disappeared, his inhale obsolete where all that came in was the laughter miasmic to the sound of his brain, the throb between his two ears drowned in embarrassment over nothingness, and the eyes that watched through the drapes of nocturnal did judge - the collapse of his will found him on the ground stuck by gravitational adhesive that crushed his chest, with it his lungs and voice that they could no longer threaten to call for another. The world fell sideways, and Akechi was stuck to the wall while the world beneath him closed in - a familiar person out calling to him.

 

His stomach churned in vertigo nausea, world fell and rose as a glitch to his view. He stared at the blurred image before him that implanted itself over reality, letters and numbers fixed to the sidelines where he couldn’t observe. Akechi blinked, and they suddenly vanished.

 

“Goro-kun! Goro! Are you alright?”

 

_That voice…_

 

“Do you recognize me? Are you alright?”

 

_Of course I know you,_ the detective bitterly thought, _you’re Akira Kurusu._

 

“How is he?” another voice was behind Akira, but Akechi didn’t care to remember. His head hurt too much, and his body ached with enough of his own toxin.

 

“He doesn’t seem to be present. Let’s get him to Takemi, she’ll know what to do.”

  


“Hey, the hell man? What happened here?”

  
  


“Ryuji! Come help me carry him to the clinic.”

  
  
  


“U-uh, sure man.”

  
  
  
  


Akechi vaguely felt his body being lifted from the ground, and being carried by two warm bodies.

  
  
  
  
  


The carry was mostly a blur where he focused on keeping himself from passing out, but he found it difficult when his body was made of rubber pulse and he was trapped in his head.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He was then placed on a table in a bright room, voices muffled from his faded mind, clouded against his will.

  
  
  


After what felt like eternity, he was back. But his disconnect was no hibernation, a mere insomniac drift into purgatory between sleep and wake.

  


“Great, you’re finally awake.” the doctor clad in goth attire nonchalantly hummed, “It was an emergency, so I hope you don’t mind that I had to look through your records.”

  


Akechi absentmindedly denied, tired and unable to front his mask, “No, that’s fine…” he huffed tiredly.

 

“It seems to me like you experienced some sort of hypnagogic sleep paralysis, likely inflicted by your mental condition. I’m unsure why this episode seemed to last so long, though. Did you experience any sort of hallucinations before or during?”

 

“A-ah…” Akechi hummed noncommittally, “I did see some things. They were very vivid and lasted for a long duration of time, so I’d call them abnormal.”

 

Takemi sighed, “This has happened before, yes? Does this occur often?”

 

“Yeah, several times at my apartment so nobody was there to help me.”

 

The doctor hummed in response while she scribbled on her notepad before she abruptly stopped and gave Akechi a concerned look, “You suffer from behavioral frontotemporal dementia?”

 

“Yes.” he furrowed his brows, “I suppose I’ve been inflicted with an unlucky illness.”

 

“I’m just surprised you have it at this age.” she huffed out, “I know you’re the ‘Detective Prince’, but you should consider getting someone to help you since you have _this_ many issues. Do you have any sort or guardian who could help?”

 

This earned an immediate distaste in Akechi’s response, “No, I have nothing but a Valerian Father.”

 

“Woah, calm down there, Black-Eyed Susan Detective.” Takemi eased him.

 

“I’d say more of a Purple Hyacinth.”

 

“Oh, don’t be edgy.”

 

Akechi snorted a bit as he noted Takemi’s appearance, “Okay, pot.”

 

“That’s _Sage_ to you.”

 

They both had a laugh, but it felt off. Like the world was trapped in amber and the words that hung in the air were not really reaching his head - they just kept going. _Anecdoche_.

 

“So if not him, who else could help you?” she asked him, returning him to the world. The amber cracked, things fell down and the words rained.

 

“I don’t really…

 

have anyone.”

  


Takemi sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Kurusu out there claimed to be your friend. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help.”

 

_No, he’ll just make everything worse_ , “Sure, I’ll talk to him about it.” Akechi tensed to pull himself up, but was stopped by Takemi.

 

“Don’t get up, you might faint because you’re a bit dehydrated right now. I’ll go get Kurusu.” she commanded before she got up and strided towards the door, heels clacked against the tile floor.

 

When the door shut behind her, Akechi groaned. _I have to call into work, but then I’d be piled up with even more work… Fuck my life._

 

The muffled talking behind the door combined with the buzzing of the overhead lights provided him a delirious white noise daze, the tilt of his head backwards contributed to his detachment to his actual self.

 

_These Ides of March, are they so make-believe…?_ He questioned himself, wondered if he truly fit in the shoes of Julius Caesar. Loki seemed to think so, and every breakdown and testament to his mental instability reaffirmed the idea that Caesar was epileptic, and that he was unfit and killed as a snake. He wouldn’t know the Brutus, though. He trusted no-one, not even Akira.

  
  


The door creaked open, and behind it revealed to be the darker boy with something hidden behind his eyes. _Akira_ …

 

“Takemi told me something was going on with you, but you’d have to tell me yourself.”

 

_I knew she’d pull something like this._ Akechi internally groaned to himself, fully aware that Takemi was trying to make him trust in someone. He was no fool.

 

He bitterly watched as Akira shut the door behind him and sat down in the stool adjacent to the table Akechi rested on, and when he gestured lightly, “Go ahead, you can tell me. That is, if you’re comfo-“

 

“It’s fine, Akira. I guess she’s right, that I need to do this.” Akechi interrupted. He had recalled what had happened in his hallucination, what he saw - the trick Loki played on him.

 

Akira relented a bit, relaxed his face and waited for Akechi to open up patiently.

 

“I-... I’m suffering from a disease that I can’t stop, and that can’t be cured. It regresses my brain- I’ll lose my morals and my restraint. I’ll lose my justice.

 

“Not only that, but this disease has inflicted damage on my self-preservation, unfortunately. Takemi suggested that I get some help, and I don’t know where else to go, so…

 

“Akira, will you help me?”

  
  


There was a minute that passed, and Akechi was convinced that Akira would be mad or upset. But he wasn’t. He was worried.

 

“Are you really sure you want _me_ to help you? Aren’t there, like, better options?”

 

“I don’t have anyone else, really. I also can’t really let this get out, I don’t want to be seen as-“

 

“ _Goro,_ you’re fine. I doubt anyone would find you weak or look down on you because of this.” Akira interrupted Akechi’s backtracking, much to Akechi’s surprise.

 

The detective bitterly smiled to himself, _you have no idea who would kill to know this._

 

“I’ll have to ask Boss, though. And I don’t know what I can do about it during school, Ms. Kawakami can only cover me so much…”

 

Akechi laughed, “Even your teacher likes to bury your tracks, huh? What story is behind _that?”_

 

“Strictly private Information, Goro.” Akira replied stoically while he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

The detective scoffed in exasperation as his reply, and watched as Akira strode to the door to open it and let all of his friends in.

 

“Hey, don’t let the cat in there.” Akechi heard Takemi’s voice from outside the room, then a shrill voice protest in response.

 

“So, what happened anyway man? ‘re ya alright?” Sakamoto questioned the detective, who shivered slightly at the memory.

 

“I almost passed out while on my way to Leblanc and I got stuck in a hallucinatory hypnagogic sleep paralysis, though it was mostly invoked due to stress.” Akechi replied, but lied through his teeth. He only really needed to tell them _what_ happened, not _why_. Akira caught onto this, and seemed to understand that Akechi didn’t want everyone to know.

 

“I… Uh-ummm… You got sleep paralysis? Dude, that sucks. You ain’t hurt, though, are ya?”

 

“Well, that surely is unusual, Akechi-kun. Aren’t hallucinations more common with hypnopompic sleep paralysis?” Niijima questioned, but Akechi brushed it off.

 

“It’s nothing too serious. I should’ve asked for some help after work, anyway.” Akechi posed a pretty face for them while Akira watched and worried.

 

“How unfortunate. Maybe you should consider some rest for yourself?” Kitagawa suggested, and when he got a look from his peers he shrugged, “I used to overwork myself under Sen- _Madarame_ , so I’d often find myself afflicted with sleep paralysis and other maladies as such.”

 

_That’s right…_ Akechi thought to himself, _they all seem to be victim of the targets of the Phantom Thieves, how strange._

 

“Oh! We could go to the bathhouse in a bit if you’d like!” suggested Takamaki, who seemed to burst with excitement over nothing. She didn’t seem to care too much about Akechi’s lukewarm response, either.

 

“Ah, perhaps. But I’m a bit worried about getting on the train before the night is out. Wouldn’t want to risk another incident.” Akechi laughed half-heartedly.

 

“Then maybe you should stay at my place for the night? I mean, maybe we should take what we talked about into consideration.” Akira suggested, but that worried Akechi a bit.

 

“Would Boss really let you do that?”

 

“I’m sure if it was you, yeah.” Akira shrugged, “I don’t think he’ll worry about me being a nasty crime boy with _you_ around.”

 

Akechi laughed, “No, I doubt he would.”

 

Sakamoto narrowed his eyes, “How come you guys’re all buddy-buddy?”

 

“Don’t be jealous, Ryuji,” Akira huffed in reply to Sakamoto’s pouting, “You know that I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

 

Sakamoto then makes a grandiose gesture of frustration, then rubbed his forehead as he grumbled silently to himself.

 

_Cheat on? Are they going out, or something? Why Sakamoto??_

 

“Oh, don’t mind us, Goro. Maybe you should rest a little more and you can come with us when you’re ready.” Akira proposed once he saw the confusion and discomfort on Akechi’s face.

 

“I’ll be fine if we go now, you know.” Akechi tilted his brow in a questioning manner as he wondered Akira’s motives.

 

“Feel free to call us by our first names, too.” Niijima shrugged, “A friend of Akira’s is a friend of ours.”

 

“We weren’t friends already? My, how cruel.” the detective jested to the student council president that he wasn’t unused to encountering.

 

“Don’t think of it like that, dude! Think of it like… Gettin’ a little closer.” Sakamoto- _Ryuji_ -insisted.

 

“Yes, it’s quite nice adding someone to our group.” Yusuke settled with a weak and gentle smile.

 

“Ummm, aren’t you guys _forgetting_ something?” Ann scolded and exchanged ambiguous looks with Makoto.

 

“Ah, yes. I suppose that _does_ matter.” Makoto folded her arms, then the room fell silent and still, the air thickened with tension.

 

“Right, Goro.” Akira turned a stern gaze to him, “We all _really_ like the Phantom Thieves.”

 

The detective quirked his brow questioningly, “Sure, I get that. What of it?”

 

“We mean to say that they are _important_ to us, and if one of them were hurt ‘cause of the investigation, it’d hurt _us_ too.” Ryuji elaborated.

 

“Yeah, it’d be a shame if one of our friends were hurt.” Makoto added.

 

“Mh-hm!” Ann agreed jovially, and Yusuke just nodded silently.

 

“I can’t just _not_ do my job, guys.” Akechi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Unfortunately, I have to investigate them with every ounce of effort I can.”

 

“Oh, I guess that’s understandable.” shrugged the former track star, which broke the spell of thickness in the air.

 

The group laughed, all except Akechi and Akira - who stared each other down. It was odd, the second was cut through by dagger eyes. After the laughter died down, Akechi made the effort to stand up but was stopped by Ryuji who went over to his side to support him.

 

“Here, lemme help ya, man.”

 

It wasn’t necessarily invited, but Akechi didn’t mind the help. The group cleared out, except for Akira who also went beside the ace detective to support him, to which Ryuji would make the argument that _I’ve got it_ , and Akira would do something funny like give him a look that resulted in a squealed response of _y-yes J- leader!_ It was a funny sight to behold.

 

_“Does he make you feel alive?”_

 

The voice of Loki asked and for once, Akechi would answer _‘yes’_ to the parasitic piece of himself.

 

Akechi was sure he could carry himself, but he didn’t want to miss the opportunity of being supported by others - even if it was just a nice gesture, it made him feel _normal_ for once. Loki then elected to sing for Akechi an uncharacteristically gentle song, soft unlike most of his screamed words.

 

_“If I trust in the wind, she will pave me a dif-fer-ent road;_

_I will try and start o-ver, but I think I must choose some-one else;_

_I am pulled from the pa-ges where the let-ters lack the pig-ment of trust~_

 

_“Must be on my way - I’ve got-ta get home,_

_Won’t be back some-day, so let it unfold;_

 

_“I’ve a-bandoned the out-come in search of the rest I deserve;_

_You can do what you will with my bo-dy, but I won’t ring a bell…_

_I’ve o-mit-ted the chap-ters that bow and ad-mit de-feat…”_

 

It was oddly soothing, Loki had never been nice - save a few occasions. It was the embodiment of Akechi’s ambition and loathing, so he could only guess that in that moment, his heart was free of the weights of self-loathing. He found that maybe having friends was good for him, that he should hold onto them for support - at least then he’d have people who would help him with his ailment.

 

“Yo, hey, dude.” Akechi could hear Ryuji’s voice through the voice in his mind, the next comment was directed at Akira, “You sure the Doc didn’t give him any drugs?”

 

“Let the man hum, Ryuji. We’re almost there, anyway.”

  


_Oh, I was humming?_

  


“Ah, my apologies. I didn’t realize what I was doing, I’ll stop.” Akechi bowed his head in embarrassment.

 

“You don’t have to stop, man. I just wanted to know what the song was.” Ryuji encouraged, “I think I recognize it… Maybe.”

 

“ _Empty Vessels Make The Loudest Sound_ , right?” Akira smirked. _Smartass._ “I know a few different experimental rock bands from Yosuke-onii and Kanji-onii back in Inaba. They sorta were, like, big brothers to me, you see.”

 

_Oh, now he seems fond._

 

“What about your parents, Akira?” The detective asked, “I’ve never really heard you talk about them.”

 

“Assholes,” Ryuji piped in, only to be reprimanded by Akira, “No, not really, Goro. They’re just… They’re always gone, really. Usually off doing business. So they left me at the Dojima household the first year they went off, around when I was ten. I was put there as to not cause any trouble, plus Nanako-imouto was around my age and her cousin had just left. They were off when I got arrested, too. Dojima couldn’t do anything to help.”

 

“Yeesh, did you get put in holding?” Akechi cringed, remembering the strange happenings of the Fog-Murders.

 

“A-ah ha ha, yeah… Only for a minute, though. I heard the creep escaped custody again…” Akira chuckled, utterly _terrified_ of the man in the holding cell, “I guess they had recently caught him again, which might be why he was in holding, but he was creepy as _hell_.”

 

“He was _there?!”_

 

“Who’re you guys talkin’ about?” Ryuji asked, not able to follow the conversation.

 

_“Adachi Tohru,”_ both said, but Akechi continued, “He murdered two people in Akira’s hometown and hung them up on telephone poles. We’re still not sure how they died, though.”

 

“Hah, Yu-onii said that Adachi shoved them through TV screens.” Akira paused for a moment before he had a realization, “Wait, they were the ones who _caught_ Adachi. Then he escaped to hang out with them? Not sure anymore, I haven’t heard anything from them in ages.”

 

“That’s nuts, dude.” Ryuji hummed, which the other two couldn’t have agreed more.

 

“Anyway, that song is by _The Mars Volta_ , in their album _Noctourniquet_. I tend to stick to their earlier stuff, though. Like the stories a lot.” Akira explained the song he had named earlier, and Akechi mulled it over for a few moments.

 

“Right, I remember looking into their lyrics to try and get the stories.”

 

_To try and understand what the hell Loki’s trying to tell me all the time._

 

“I _do_ like _Radiohead_ , though. Kanji-onii’s suggestion, they’re a bit more tame and somber.” Akira huffed, “Stuff like _In Rainbows_ and _OK Computer_ fuel my criminal angst.”

 

Akechi and Ryuji both laughed, “Dude, best I can do is the _Kansas_.”

 

“ _Pathetic._ ” the dark-haired boy jested before all three of them laughed. The expedition to the bathhouse took longer than it should, but it was fun.

  


“The others’re prolly in there already,” Ryuji commented, and Akira shrugged, “Guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

 

Akechi didn’t like the look the two exchanged, just before he was hoisted up into the bathhouse against his own will.

 

He felt that it was fine to move himself to the bath itself- it wasn’t such a big deal. He found himself relaxing alongside Akira and Yusuke, but Akira mostly teased Ryuji for his shyness.

 

“So, did you guys get together recently?” Akechi politely asked, and Akira chuckled, “Yeah, he was pining after me for quite some time.”

 

“Don’t act like you weren’t, either!” the faux blonde huffed in exasperation, which drew another laugh out of the detective.

 

“We may or may not’ve found ourselves in a life-or-death situation some time ago. Needless to say, we both panicked and blurted it out.” the devious student blushed slightly in embarrassment, “It was… mortifying.”

 

“What are you up to that you keep finding yourself in these types of situations?” Akechi palmed his forehead in disappointment and disapproval.

 

“We’re just doing everything in our power to make the world a better place.” Akira faintly smiled as he looked at Ryuji fondly, despite the other’s protests.

 

“We’ve all had it bad, man. We were saved by the Phantom Thieves, ‘n’ now we gotta do what _we_ can to help others.” Ryuji crossed his arms, “A-and it helps when we’re side-by-side, ya know?”

 

“How sappy, Ryuji.” Akira teased, which Ryuji almost backtracked himself on, but then the dark-haired schooler said, “I love it.”

 

“‘nd _I’m_ sappy.” he huffed, but he didn’t hate it obviously.

 

“Ah, Ryuji. We should get going, the last trains are about to leave-“ Yusuke perked out of the water.

 

“Shit, you’re right! Sorry, gotta go, bro. Hope ya get better, Akechi-!” the runner said as he hastily followed behind the starving artist, a loud ‘ _thud_ ’ heard in the other room and a gasp. They could hear Yusuke call the other boy a _‘buffoon’_ before another _‘thud’_ and a yelp came with fast steps.

 

_“I will steal your kneecaps!”_ Yusuke shouted to Ryuji, who only giggled while the artist slipped on the wet floor, _“Catch me if you can, Abur-age!”_

 

Akira laughed his ass off due to the whole situation, but Akechi was concerned, “Oh, what if they slip and hit their heads?”

 

“They’ll be fine. They’ve taken worse,” Akira then raised his voice to the stall beside theirs, “ _thanks to Makoto!”_

 

_“Shut up or I’ll give you five reasons to!”_ Makoto shouted back, along with laughter between her and Ann.

 

_“You can give me five tomorrow! You gotta get on the trains!”_ Akira was serious this time.

 

_“Oh, shi-o~oo~t, he’s right!”_ Ann yelled to Makoto, then there could be splashes heard while they rushed out.

 

Then there was only _two_.

 

“Okay…” Akira turned around to face Akechi in the baths, “so I’ve been hearing the voices again.”

 

_“Oh?”_ he could not hide his curiosity from the other.

 

“It’s often _Radiohead_ , sometimes _The Dear Hunter_ , I figured out. It keeps singing to me, _‘You have not been, paying attention, paying attention, paying attention, paying attention,’_ and saying _‘all hail to the thief’_ , but what do you think that means?”

 

“Well _‘all hail to the thief’_ isn’t too hard, you _do_ like the Phantom Thieves.” Akechi pointed out, where Akira looked down, seeming disappointed for only a split second, “What does it say with _‘You’ve not been paying attention’_?”

 

“Generally after, _‘All human beings, all human beings, - There’s an empty space inside my heart, where the weeds take root - Don’t get any big ideas, they’re not gonna happen - Maybe not, maybe not - Here I’m allowed everything all of the time, here I’m allowed everything all of the time - Denial, denial -...’_ then it starts to say that.”

  
  


**_All human beings, all human beings, - There’s an empty space inside my heart, where the weeds take root - Don’t get any big ideas, they’re not gonna happen - Maybe not, maybe not - Here I’m allowed everything all of the time, here I’m allowed everything all of the time - Denial, denial - You have not been, paying attention, paying attention, paying attention, paying attention._ **

  
  


Akechi wondered what it meant, too. Loki seemed to, at least.

 

_“Contagions bind your doublespeak - Painted a fulcrum of caves, piled with dreams of phantom masses made of pastures, Labyrinths turning, Cystic maze, - Cranial bleeding - Set me to repeat.”_

  


It reminded Akechi of Mementos.

 

“There’s something there about a collective human unconscious, perhaps a largely known misconception of doom - that one lacks the power to change things. And…”

 

_“Where did I go wrong? - Cursed they are who speak its name, - is it you, Moatilliatta? - You came here on time, - I’ve defected, - Does he make you feel alive? - You better ask Metatron.”_

 

“...One who will rise to defeat the malevolent cognition, which is idolized by humanity as their treasure. A rebel against oppressor, a slain god of desires to reset the world.”

  


Recognition flashed in Akira’s eyes, but he said nothing, “...Thank you…” the other boy clouded over thought, eyes fogged by a miasma or realization - of disillusionment, “Goro.”

 

“Mmh?” The detective tiredly hummed as he relaxed into the heat of the water.

 

“I had another dream…” he trailed before poking the bridge of his nose where his glasses were absent- a nervous habit -then looked away from the older boy, “Goro, you _died_.”

 

The words caught his attention, and he listened carefully while Akira elaborated.

 

“We were in some sort of ship, I think. A boiler room. You locked yourself behind a blast wall, and you… We… I heard a gunshot, and when the ship went crashing down, you never emerged with us…”

 

The brown-haired boy stared blankly into the water, recalling the translucent blood mixed with tears of his hallucination from before. From out of the water did peek the red hue to his hands, reminiscent of the sea of souls.

 

“It’s strange. Just a few weeks ago, I dreamt of _Junya Kaneshiro_ , before I even knew who he was. A-ah, I guess that doesn’t constitute as much, either. The night of my transfer, I somehow knew about the people I’d meet. Maybe the world _is_ really repeating, a-and my memories just keep bleeding through. Like, I remembered that you- that you… I’m not sure, but there’s something _more_ to you. Like two selves. You have more than one, and you haven’t shown me the other yet.”

 

_Shit,_ Akechi thought, _is Akira some sort of psychic?_

 

“Well, last time you said things were a little different.” he commented.

 

“Y-yeah. Like, I was never with Ryuji before- I _couldn’t_ be, somehow. I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever said too much, either. Or even really hung out with you- not this way.” Akira explained.

  


_“Check the puzzle, does it fit? I am Alpha and Omega. - Set me to repeat.”_

  


“Do you believe in what the voices tell you?” Akechi huffed, “That this reality is on repeat from a sore-losing god?”

 

“I’m not sure, but it feels like it adds up.”

 

“Two and two does not make _five_ , Akira.” The detective crossed his arms, “You’re still missing something, why do _you_ remember this stuff? Are you sure it isn’t your head compiling subliminal messages into something?”

 

“Two and two makes five if you hail to the thief, but _anyway,”_ Akira brought the subject back on track, “I have a quick question for you.”

 

“Shoot, then.” Akechi shrugged, and noted the subtle way Akira flinched at those words.

 

The other boy swallowed the dryness in his mouth, “What color of gloves do I wear?”

 

“Red.” Akechi answered easily, on spinal impulse almost. He wasn’t sure where the answer came from, since he’d never seen Akira wear gloves before, “What? This barely constitutes as anything. It could just be, like, I don’t know, what I think would look good on you.”

 

Akira sat quietly before he asked, “Who’s _‘Skull’?”_

 

“Ryuji- that doesn’t mean anything!”

 

“Doesn’t it, though?” Akira loomed over Akechi as he searched his face with narrowed eyes, “What’s the name of my cat?”

 

“Morgana.” he answered, and finally he realized that Akira didn’t even _tell_ him the cat’s name.

 

“You see what I mean now, don’t you?” Akira huffed, “But if you know those others… No wonder…”

 

“Hm?” the detective questioned the other boy on his muttering, only to be lightly dismissed.

 

“Ah, it’s nothing.” the other sighed before looking at the ceiling of the bathhouse, as if trying to gaze through it to the stars, “These parts of me tell me things about myself and the world, things I normally wouldn’t notice or accept. It feels like maybe my whole life I’ve been daydreaming, and only now do I become hyper aware.”

  


In that second, Akechi found that he heard a voice in his head different from Loki and Robin Hood - as opposed to shrill it was soft and deep, feeling as the ocean.

  


_“I can’t tell just which option is worse, dying pure or aware…”_

  


Another voice retorted.

  


_“It’s the devil’s way now, there is no way out. You can scream and you can shout, it’s too late now.”_

  


_Oh, these are Akira’s voices,_ he thought, though he wasn’t sure of the instinct that guided him to that conclusion.

 

“Yu-onii used to talk about stuff like that. He and his friends, I used to overhear him talking in his sleep when we shared rooms.” Akira said, exhaustion finally bled into his face, “I’m not sure why I remember that. Guess it really left an impact on me.”

 

“You keep talking about ‘Yu-onii’, but who is he? Is he Dojima’s nephew?” Akechi scratched his head.

 

“Um, yeah. Narukami Yu. He’s kinda similar in that our parents are off and busy. Would hang out with Dojima a lot in between jobs - pretty sure he’s an attorney, or something to do with law.” he answered the detective.

 

“It doesn’t surprise me that he got into law, especially after those murders.” Akechi said.

 

“Oh, you have _no_ idea.” Akira grinned at the irony, “He’s friends with Adachi Tohru. He and his friends caught him, and Yu-onii still seems to be friendly with him.”

 

Akechi spat in surprise and snorted, “Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah. A few years ago, Adachi escaped just to dance with them. Like, what the hell??”

 

“That is ridiculous. Practically insane.”

  


They talked like that for a few more minutes before they had to leave the bathhouse and go to Leblanc. To contrast his prior hectic walk, this one was serene and covered with a blanket of warm and comfortable silence. Most of the stars that stared down at him were dim from the light pollution, and his lucid mind focused on the supposed delinquent beside him.

 

Akechi heard Akira hum a gentle yet sad sway, followed by light bobbing of his head. The detective realized he must’ve been staring because then Akira gave him a devious look and smirked.

 

“It’s _Nude,_ if you’re wondering. _Radiohead_ , again.”

 

“I wasn’t asking.”

 

“You looked like you wanted to.”

 

They sat in silence again, and Akira wasn’t surprised that he had to pull out his keys to unlock the front door of Leblanc, and with the jingle of the keys, the insert gave way and along it the door.

 

“Come on in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Contrary to what you may believe, I was not high when I wrote this. This is where the serious changes begin, and it's pretty lore-breaking so if you aren't comfortable with that, you're free to stop reading. And by serious changed, I mean absolutely serious. I don't even know what was going through my head when I wrote this. Well, aside from your typical aneurism.
> 
> I have ideas for this work, don't get me wrong. It's a bit misleading to call it a Fix-It, since it's basically a weird existential stroke I had experimenting with "what if" scenarios into an orgy of whatever the hell this is. It's going to be a bumpy ride, and no, this is absolutely not a plausible plot to replace the original plot, although implements elements to justify the behaviors of some characters which make bad choices in contrast to their pre-established characters, while also playing around with the world of Persona and making it into my own unique spin.
> 
> As for why each part is released as a different work, it's because the part "Jigsaw Falling Into Place" has many different parts, which I will have as chapters on that work while the rest of the bits are in a series. So far, I'm only about 50% done, but the Google Doc has reached 200+ pages so I hope you're ready for a hefty read. There will also be heavy science fiction themes(?) if you can call it that, such as neural fuckery and a world exempt from our world, but applies on our world (?). Like a rectangle-square-rectangle thing, accept there's high level bullshit about the alteration of realities and whatnot, sort of to show how strange the notion of monotheism and polytheism is on lore perspective when put into practice, full of contradictions and other boujee and controversial stuff like that. Yes, I have so much hubris, but if you aren't someone who'd be burned on the stake in the 14th century, are you even living? I digress, if you're not prepared for a thorough mad confused on main type of story, get prepared. Buckle up, bitches, we're going to hell.


End file.
